


Harmony

by ShariDeschain



Series: Batdictionary [5]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2017, Family Fluff, Gen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain
Summary: Harmony(n) the quality of forming a pleasing and consistent wholeOr the one where Damian is forced to dance with his siblings, Tim is a good brother, and their family is just… nice.





	Harmony

“You are good”, Cassandra says, and Damian looks up from his feet and scowls at her.

“Liar.”

Cassandra smiles, squeezes Damian’s hand in hers a little bit tighter and suddenly whirls on her toes, forcing the boy to follow her. He stumbles, his fingers slip from her waist, but he stubbornly keeps pace with her, and Cassandra’s grin grows larger.

“Rigid”, she admits. “But good. You’ll learn.”

Damian scoffs, but tries his best to focus on the music and mirror his sister’s steps. He’s not going to admit it to anyone, but he’s not totally hating the annual Wayne Gala as much as he thought he would, nor is he hating his siblings’ company, for that matter - and by his siblings, he mostly means Cassandra, even if she’s the one who dragged him on the dance floor and forced him to waltz with her.

Then again, if he’d been really opposed to it, this wouldn’t be happening at all, and they both know it. Thing is, it feels kind of… nice. The dim lights and the soft music, the echoes of familiar voices in the background and the aftertaste of the champagne he was not supposed to drink in his mouth. Yes, it feels nice. If only a little dizzy. Like a dream.

The music gradually slows down and Damian finds himself resting his head against his sister’s shoulder while they sway on their feet. He feels Cassandra settling her chin on his head and he knows she’s smiling, but he doesn’t mind either gesture because now he can observe the ballroom undisturbed, half hidden in her arms.

He looks at Tim and Stephanie, dancing not far away from them, enclosed in the same half-hug. Well, maybe not exactly the same. Damian has a general grasp of the difference between a sister and a girlfriend, but Tim’s role confuses him (not unlike Tim’s whole existence). Because if Stephanie is Damian’s sister, then Tim can’t be in love with her and she can’t be in love with Damian’s brother. Then again, she would only really be Damian’s sister if one of his brothers married her (or his father decided to adopt her - but to his memory that was the only adoption Bruce always swore against). So now he looks at them and he doesn’t know if he feels grossed out or hopeful about that dance.

His eyes slowly shift to focus on his father and his oldest brother. Sometimes, when the lines blur in his mind, like right now, they are the one and the same. Bruce and Dick are standing close to a wall, talking and laughing with each other, their stances unusually relaxed. It’s good to see them getting along, if only because every time that they fight, Damian feels compelled to take a side. And he never likes the look of betrayal in one’s eyes when he stands with the other. It hurt to choose between his mother and his father, but Dick or Bruce is a choice he simply can’t make.

He can’t see Jason nor Alfred, but he’s pretty sure they’re in the kitchen, drinking tea with a generous amount of whisky in it, if the flask hidden in Jason’s jacket was any indication of his intentions for the evening. It’s something he had difficulties to wrap his mind around at first, the strong influence of a butler on all of them, but time made him understand, and now he’s not surprised that Todd, who claims to be willing to sell all of them off for a hot dog, would decide to attend the gala only to sneak off to spend some time with Alfred.

He looks up at Cassandra when he feels her turning her head around and laugh, and following her line of sight he finds Barbara dancing with a tall, goofy stranger, and for a few moments he follows the weird gestures the two girls use to communicate with each other - a special language developed years and years ago, Cain had explained to him once. He has no idea of what they’re saying, but they’re both laughing, so he imagines that the stranger is the one taking the brunt of their amusement. It better not be Damian in any case.

And it’s still weird, sometimes, to think of them as his family. But some other times that thought too feels nice.

“May I?”

He recognizes the voice immediately, but still jumps at the tap on his shoulder. Looking up to meet Stephanie’s grin Damian berates himself for his wandering thoughts and for not paying better attention to his surrounding. Cassandra is - obviously enough - not surprised in the slightest.

“No”, he answers, without immediately understanding what she means, only on a principle. “You may not.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a brat”, Stephanie answers, jokingly pulling his ear. “And _fyi_ when someone asks _may I_ in a dance, you just accept it. It’s the _etiquette_. Didn’t Alfred teach you that?”

“He only made me promise to have fun and not to stab anyone”, Damian answers. “He seems to think the two conditions exclude one another.”

Stephanie has spent enough time with him to recognize a threat, no matter how veiled it is, so she crosses her arms on her chest with an offended pout.

“You’re being mean with no reason, I just wanted a dance with you”, she complains. “Cassie, tell him how mean he is.”

“Mean”, Cassandra agrees, even if she’s clearly amused by the exchange.

“Tt”, Damian answers to both of them. “The wish is not reciprocal, Brown. So go away.”

“Brat. Fine then! I’ll dance with Cassie, and you can have Tim.”

“I don’t want-”

What he wants or not wants it’s obviously beneath Stephanie’s interest, because she plucks him out of Cassandra’s arms and downright _throws_ him backwards. And normally that wouldn’t be enough to make him lose his balance, but tonight his guard is as lower as it can be, so Damian actually falls back.

Tim catches him under his arms just in time to prevent him from landing on his ass. Damian tilts his head back to look at him in surprise and for an awkward moment they just stare at each other like they don’t know how the hell they got in that position in the first place. Then Tim hoists him up, and Damian finds himself on his feet again, a _thanks_ trapped between his teeth.

“That harlot”, he mutters instead, spinning around to look at Stephanie waltzing away with Cass, both laughing. _This_ is the family he knows.

“Hey, come on”, Tim says, catching him again, by his elbow this time, when Damian makes like he wants to lunge after her. “Let’s not make a scene, yes?”

“She pushed me!”

“What are you, te- okay, nevermind”, Tim rolls his eyes and tightens his grip on him. “Come here.”

Damian looks incredulously up at his older brother while Tim adjusts their hands so that Damian’s left one is on Tim’s shoulder and the fingers of his right one are wrapped in Tim’s own.

“Drake. What are you doing”, it’s not even a question. It’s a statement.

Tim only shrugs at him.

“If the girls can dance by themselves so can we. I believe in equal rights”, he says, and then he starts moving his feet in time with the music, dragging Damian with him.

And maybe it’s the seriousness of Tim’s expression, or his matter-of-factly tone of voice, or even the absurd slowness of Damian’s own reflexes that allows his siblings to jostle him around like a- well, like a kid, but whatever it is, Damian burst into laughter at that.

He catches himself almost immediately and slaps a hand against his mouth to suffocate the traitorous sound, but it’s too late and both he and Tim stop and stare at each other with wide eyes for the second time in less than a few minutes.

“It wasn’t…”, Tim starts, looking completely flabbergasted at the idea of Damian laughing at one of his joke. “It wasn’t that funny, you know?”

“Of course it wasn’t funny”, Damian says, but his words comes out muffled from behind his hand, and Tim just stares at him for a few long moments. Then Drake, who prides himself of the title of best detective in the world, second only - and maybe - to the Batman, tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“Damian, are you... drunk?”, he asks.

“Don’t be absurd, Drake!”, Damian hisses under his breath, but he’s blushing and he’s perfectly aware of it. And by the hearty laugh Tim gives him, his brother has noticed it too.

“Oh my god, that’s precious. Jason?”, he guesses.

Damian scrunches up his nose in regret.

It’s not like he’s _drunk_ drunk. Not like the people he often sees in the streets at night, staggering around and vomiting in the corners of dark alleys. He would never lower himself to that - and he’s positively sure Jason would’ve never let him either. But his head does feel lighter, and his abilities are definitely impaired. And he laughed at Tim’s lame joke. So yes, he’s shamefully drunk. On two flutes of champagne.

“He dared me. And I thought… I’ve always had perfect control of my body and I’m immune to most drugs and poisons, thanks to the League’s training”, he explains quickly, eyes fixed on his feet. “I should have a good resistance to all mind-altering substances. But apparently alcohol is a different matter.”

He hears Tim inhale deeply and waits for the mocks he knows he deserves. He’s surprised when instead his brother sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulder to pull him briefly against his chest.

“You’re such a weird kid”, Tim only comments, one hand running quickly through Damian’s hair.

And at that point, for his own peace of mind, Damian _has_ to ask.

“Drake. Are you drunk too?”, he muses. 

The question earns him another laugh and a second hair ruffle.

“No, I’m not. And don’t worry, brat. I won’t tell Bruce that you are.”

Damian resists the urge to ask “ _really?_ ” and just stares up at his brother while they slowly resume dancing.

“Tt. And why should I believe you?”

“Because that’s what older brothers do, I guess”, Tim answers, smiling indulgently down at him. “They get you drunk and they don’t tell. Or, at least, so I was told.”

Unimpressed by the feeling, Damian just sighs and leans a little more into his brother.

“You are going to use it as blackmail, aren’t you?”

“Yup”, Tim confirms with a grin. “But tonight you’re safe, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Batfam Week 2017, Day 3: Wayne Gala.


End file.
